


You Were Never Alone

by sarcieles (orphan_account)



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Angry Erik, Cherik - Freeform, Fluff, M/M, Miami, Pre-Cuba, Shaw is an ass, Telepathy, Unintentional Telepathy, mind-reading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-17 15:27:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4671728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/sarcieles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU where Charles felt Erik's mind far before Miami and was soon tapping into his thoughts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Were Never Alone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theapolis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theapolis/gifts).



> So I read the work Sunder by the lovely theapolis, and I thought: this is an amazing idea! I took it a half-step further and came up with this.
> 
> If this has errors and stuff that's entirely my fault sorry ;-;

Charles, as Raven had said to him many times after he'd refused an invitation to the bar, was turning into an old professor before he had even gotten his degree. This time was no exception.

"I have to start my thesis," he said. Raven made an exasperated noise as she pulled on her coat and turned blonde.

"You haven't been out in ages, Charles! One drink couldn't hurt." she scoffed, putting her hands on her hips in a motion that would've intimidated most men. Charles, however, was not most men. He was her brother, had grown up with her since she was eight and knew full well that she would leave without him, mumbling that he was definitely coming next time even if she had to drag him by his ear. Again, this time was no exception.

"I have a difficult major, darling. I need to get started as soon as possible. Go have fun." he ordered with a shooing wave with his hand. With the typical grumbling, Raven was gone with a door slam. Charles relaxed into the couch and picked up his pencil again. Before he could even put it to the paper a searing pain slashed his senses. He had migraines, sometimes, when his telepathy was acting up, but it wasn't now, so what was this? With a jolt he realized that it was not pain, rather anger so intense it burned like fire and stung like ice.

"That dirty son of a bitch, I'm going to find him," he said, though the words were not his own. Lacing the curse was contempt so real and true that Charles' tongue hurt just from saying it. "He's going to pay for this, and so is this insect."

Since Charles already had established-though unintentionally-a link with this man, he should be able to delve further into his mind to see what he was experiencing. Charles tried, but he strained to do so. This man must be far away. The flames of agony and madness licked at all corners of Charles' brain. One last coherent thought was: "Shaw is going to die," and an image of a man with wire-rimmed glasses smiling down at him with a crazed, maniacal look in his eyes.

"Du bist ganz allein, Erik." he said. "Ganz allein."

Charles promptly passed out afterwards.

 

**

 

He woke up with a start to Raven sitting on the couch in her blue form, her bare foot tapping nervously on the carpet. "Raven," he croaked. The aftermath of the strange encounter was still throbbing in his mind like a terrible hangover. She was over to him faster than Charles' mind could keep up.

"Oh my god, Charles!" she exclaimed. Her hair was no longer combed neatly back like it normally was; it was un-kept and fell in strands. That either meant Raven had stayed the night somewhere after the bar and hadn't brushed her hair or it had been a while since Charles had been awake. "You've been unconscious for a day, now! I didn't bring you to the hospital because-"

"It was my telepathy," Charles said with a hoarse throat. "A man, someone, he was in such _pain-"_

"Who?" Raven asked.

Charles paused. If he could just push past the cacophony of emotions rattling around in his skull, he was sure he could pull out a name. _Erik,_ he remembered. _His name is Erik. And he's going to kill someone._

"E-Erik," he managed to say.

"How did it happen? You don't normally pick up people's thoughts unless they're close to you. Is there anyone on campus named Erik?" said Raven, running her blue hand over Charles' forehead to check for a fever. She knew he wouldn't have one, but it was a comforting gesture that she hadn't picked up from Charles or his mother, and definitely not Kurt and Cain.

"No. He's... He's... German," Charles realized, remembering that whoever the man was in the vision, whom he presumed was Shaw, had spoken German. As the vision came back in startling clarity Charles shuddered. Hatred emanated off of it, and Charles knew that had to be "Erik's".

"Well, Germany is close to England..."

"He wasn't in Germany, or England. I...," Charles remembered that in the back of the man's mind he was griping about how cold it was and how he couldn't wait to get to Argentina. He remembered his surroundings, the climate, the position of his tongue in his mouth so he could pronounce words correctly, what language he would have to speak... "I think he's in Switzerland."

"Switzerland?" Raven exclaimed confusedly.

"I don't know, his brain was programming German words to English words to French words, Romansh and Italian at an alarming rate. He's incredibly bilingual." Charles shrugged as he tried to shift higher up on the couch. Raven helped him up and handed him a glass of water. He mumbled a thanks and downed the thing in ten seconds.

"That's... Well...," Raven said. "Scary."

"I'm going to find him." Charles replied, Raven's eyes widening.

"This guy sounds like a crazy serial killer! Why the hell would you want to find him?" she exclaimed. Charles looked at the ground.

"You... You wouldn't understand. I don't think." he murmured. "He was in pain, he... he needs... someone, and I'm not saying that... that I have to be that person, but I think he's going down a darker path and even though I don't know him I don't want anyone to...

"I just don't want him making a choice he'll regret." Charles finished. Raven sighed and patted his hand. Another comforting gesture he didn't know where she got.

"And I don't want you to make one either." she said. With a silent huff Charles sat up fully to press a kiss to her hairline.

"I know what I'm doing, darling." said the telepath. "You don't have to worry about me in the slightest."

"Famous last words," Raven mumbled, but she didn't talk to him about it for the rest of the day.

 

**

 

Charles then became immersed in both his thesis and this Erik, dividing the first half of the day to his studies and the last half for finding this mysterious potential killer. He hadn't made much progress in terms of exact location, knowing that he would be in Argentina but other than that, he had nothing. Basically he was just replaying the snippets he had seen in his mind. Since he had an eidetic memory he was able to see everything that had been projected to him the exact way it had been. Memory was a tricky thing, but it was Charles' specialty.

Raven worried about Charles in the sense of a mother worrying about what kind of friends her child was keeping. She constantly tried to be assertive on the subject, sometimes just flat out asking. Personally Charles knew that if he showed her the images, she'd force him to see a therapist. Some of the memories, which mostly included a man named Herr Doktor and concentration camps during the war, were vivid and, quite frankly, scary. It would scar her, and the last thing he was going to do was hurt her mind.

In terms of minds, Erik's was the most interesting and colorful one he'd ever come across, if only just for a few fragmented seconds. It was layered with emotion, and while that emotion was mostly contempt and rage and hatred, Charles knew there was good underneath. There must be some there, he knew.

"This mission of yours is becoming obsessive," Raven said one night as she made dinner.

"I'm coming onto something, I think," Charles responded from the couch.

"Yeah, that his favorite food is the blood of his enemies." Raven turned with a wooden spoon with tomato sauce on it. "Charles, while I know you're responsible, this isn't healthy."

"It's completely fine."

"I beg to differ. You spend your entire day at the uni, then on your thesis, then chasing a madman." she snorted, swiping her finger across the surface of the spoon and tasting the sauce. "Personally, I would stop and just hope who he's going after deserves it."

"He does." Charles growled, hit with memories of Sebastian Shaw and the camps and Erik's mother.

"This is what I mean. You don't know this person!" said Raven. "Yet, you act like they were your best friend."

"Hardly." Charles replied.

"What's his favorite color."

"Blue." said Charles immediately. He sighed and looked at the ceiling.

"See?"

"Raven, don't-"

"From here on out, I am cutting you off from Erik Lehnsherr."

"How do you know his last name?"

"You mumbled it in your sleep one night. Because you're _obsessed."_

Charles ate his dinner in a broody silence.

 

**

 

 _Blood and honor. Which would you care to shed first?_ Charles awoke with a start. He heard Erik's voice in his head, the same gravelly and sad voice that had haunted him for weeks. He was not going to let him go once he had him.

 _Erik,_ he sent with as much force as he could. The mind faltered, but barely. _Who are you?_ it sent back, then a stab of satisfaction was sent over their connection. Distantly Charles heard a man scream.

_It doesn't matter. You need to stop._

_You don't know me._

_I know enough, Erik. These men do not need to die._

_They won't talk unless they do. Now get out._

_You need to stop, Erik, please!_

_No. I said get out, now get out._

_Erik-_

Charles lost the connection. 

He drew a shaking hand over his face. There was even more maniacal rage present, and it was worse when it was directed at him. A future of boiling anger and revenge. Charles felt his breath return, he hadn't even known he'd been holding it.

"Charles?" Raven called from her room. She had been sleeping, her voice said as much.

"Go back to bed, Raven," he replied.

"What _happened?_ You probably just woke up the entire apartment building."

"It was nothing."

"Were you-"

"No, now go back to sleep."

But she didn't, because now she was in his doorway, blonde and in a robe. Charles sighed and looked away.

"It was Erik, wasn't it."

Charles knew he wasn't a good liar, he never had been, and Raven was good at decoding most anyone. But, he still tried his best. "No."

"Liar."

"Raven, it was nothing."

"Nothing my ass. Tell me what happened." she growled. With crossed arms and a heavy gaze she was intimidating. Even when she was little she could look like she was a lioness protecting her cubs, but now she just looked like she was going to eat him.

"He..." Charles stammered. "Was... um. In a compromising position..."

"Oh my _god."_ Raven grumbled.

"Raven, no-"

"You seriously just projected someone's angry orgasm to me while I was sleeping?" Raven hissed. Charles sighed a sigh of relief. At least it wasn't as bad as it had been.

"Now, it wasn't like _that-"_

"I can't even believe it, Charles. You need to control yourself." grumbled Raven before she shuffled back to her bedroom. Charles slumped against the headboard. "And you'd better not have been mind-fucking him!"

_"Raven!"_

 

**

 

After that Charles gave up on his search, much to Raven's satisfaction. He began focusing on his thesis more, going out drinking, picking up women. Something in Erik's voice that night had given truth to what Raven had said. It was like he was mooning over a celebrity. Now, Charles felt utterly foolish for ever thinking that he could change him. It was like changing the way the planet orbited.

That night, after his presentation of his finally finished thesis, he was walking up to the bar. There was a co-ed there, Amy, he remembered, sitting on one of the stools. She waved, and Charles was about to smile back, when a woman stepped in his way.

"Professor Xavier," she said, extending a hand. "Your work is quite impressive."

Being drunk-or on his way to being drunk-Charles merely laughed. "Thank you, it's harder than it looks-" he said, gesturing to the glass beer bong in his hand.

"No, I meant your presentation." she clarified, sounding a bit put-off.

"You were at my presentation?" Charles exclaimed.

"Yes. And I was wondering if you had a second to talk."

"Of course." replied Charles. He led her over to a table and sat her down. She was average in terms of looks, with auburn hair and an angular face. The projections she was giving off were frightened, curious, and confusing. Charles cocked a brow.

"I was wondering... About the mutations you mentioned in your thesis. I want to know if they already happened." she said.

Charles took that opportunity to delve into her mind. Mutants, he realized, one with diamond skin, one with a tail that could teleport, another that could create cyclones of wind. Then, with a jolt, a man that he recognized. Maybe he was a bit younger, but... It was Herr Doktor. _Sebastian Shaw._

"Something tells me you already know the answer to your question," he breathed. _Erik._

 

**

 

Moira, was the agent's name. She had been part of the CIA for five years, going on six. She lived in Langley. She liked Thanksgiving. She was _boring._

Charles much preferred Raven's company to hers, which wasn't a surprise, but it was more of a surprise than it should've been. Moira seemed like a nice person, and she was, she just lacked a certain personality. _Any_ personality. She talked about her parents and her dog Marlowe and the parts of genetic mutation she understood, which was the equivalent to a first grader's perspective on the subject.

"We found Shaw," Moira said one day. She was donning a bulletproof vest. "He's in Miami. Suit up, we're going in an hour."

Charles swallowed and looked at Raven, who glanced at him. "You heard the boss. Let's go."

 

The boat sped across the water, led by two phony Coast Guard rafts. It's quiet, and Charles is holding his breath. Raven isn't there, Charles decided last minute she wasn't coming. Too dangerous, too risky. If Raven died he would die. It was symbiotic.

"There he is," the man in the black suit-whose name Charles never learns-whispered.

"This is the U.S Coast Guard!" someone yells through a megaphone. Charles takes that as his cue to go into Shaw's mind, but he finds he can't.

"Moira, I... There's someone else on that ship, someone like me. I can literally feel them in _my_ mind... I'm not going to be much help to you, I'm sorry." he said breathlessly. Moira looked at the ground and cursed. The man in the black suit grimaces before walking down the ship, Moira following suit. Charles goes after them.

Suddenly, there is a painfully familiar emotion in his mind. Rage. _ERIK!_ he yells, but there is not response. Only wave after wave of absolute rabid energy. And it was dimming like something was choking it off. Like something was drowning it.

"There's someone else out there!" Charles hollered. Moira started, running into the man. Charles ran back the way he'd came and looked over the edge of the ship.

"You have to let go!" he screamed. _Erik, let it go!_

There was no response, pleasant or otherwise. Charles took off his jacket and dove into the water.

 

**

 

The water of Miami was surprisingly cold, but given the time of year that was understandable. Charles found a form trying to control the rapidly disappearing submarine. With a burst of energy, Charles surged forward and grabbed him by the shoulders. They were broad, German.

 _You'll drown._ _Let it go, Erik. You'll die._

He pulled him up above the surface. In the moonlight, Erik looked young and scared. His hazel bangs clung to his forehead. Stormy blue eyes were darkened by the sky.

"Get off of me!" he growled, his throat full of salty water. "Get off-" Charles swam back a foot and looked at him.

"Who are you?" he whispered.

"Charles Xavier." replied Charles.

"You were in my head, how did you do that?" he asked with the innocence of a six year-old. Charles could barely tell it was the same man who had snarled at him in Argentina only a month prior.

"You have your tricks, I have mine." Charles said.

Erik paused, then looked up at him. "I thought I was alone," he murmured, his eyes glazing over with the painful memory that Charles had seen from the beginning.

"You're not alone, Erik. You were _never_ alone."

**Author's Note:**

> Du bist ganz allein, Erik: You're all alone, Erik.
> 
> Ganz allein: All alone.
> 
> Ugh the lines are so short I'm such a loserrrrr


End file.
